


French Songs and Leather

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Boy Blaine, Early Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Fluff, M/M, Skank Blaine Anderson, Skank Kurt Hummel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Chris Colfer's latest photoshoot (God bless)</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Songs and Leather

Junior Year was hellish enough to convince Kurt that this was it.

Senior year would see a whole new Kurt Hummel--untouchable, feared and fearless.

Kurt spend the summer training with one of his father’s employees, a burly man who fed Kurt his snacks after Elizabeth Hummel’s death, while Burt was trying to juggle everything.

A man who used to be in the Special Forces until he needed some peace.

With Burt’s reluctant agreement, Kurt trains with him, learning the few hits that can incapacitate any attacker, developing muscles over his suddenly taller frame.

Meanwhile, Kurt also works on his wardrobe.

Just because he’s toughening up, doesn’t mean that he loses his eye and appreciation for fashion.

Clothes are a way to present oneself to the world, and if he wants to inspire respect, his clothes have to reflect that.

Lots of denim and leather, lots of outfits showing off his new muscles--now he gets why Puck constantly wears tank tops, there is a certain ego stroke in showing off--and many, many attempts to get his hair to not droop lamely in his eyes.

Kurt thinks he has reached a consensus, his hair swooped over without being completely cemented to the top of his head--that really didn’t look good, but Mercedes laughed good-naturedly at it, so that was at least a good afternoon.

It’s Mercedes who tells him about Quinn’s own change in outfits and attitude, and they all go out for smoothies out of Lima.

The moment Kurt sees the pink in Quinn’s hair, how it fits her personality without making any less badass, he has an epiphany.

Twenty minutes later, with Quinn’s help and Mercedes’ encouragement, Kurt carefully swipes the strand of hot pink over his head and puts his sleeveless jacket back on.

“What do you think?” he asks the two girls, hands on his hips.

“You rock, Kurt,” Mercedes replies, carefully applying the hot pink to the end of a few curls.

Quinn smiles before lightening up a cigarette. “This Senior year is certainly going to be interesting.”

“Skank Glee?” Kurt says, sitting between them and crossing his legs at his ankles.

“Skank Glee,” they both reply before Quinn and Kurt take care of the back of Mercedes’ hair.

\---

Dalton Academy was a much needed haven, and it helped Blaine recover, both physically and mentally after the attack.

But this is his Senior year, and he needs …

He needs to see what the “real” world is really like, at least before leaving for college.

One of the guys in the Fight Club tells him about his own High School, how it’s not a paradise of rights and equality, but at least some people are “legit”--namely, the Glee club, and isn’t this jock full of surprises once Blaine has beaten the shit out of him--and Blaine starts planning it.

Obviously, he can count on McKinley Jock to spread some rumors about him, making sure that people leave him well alone.

But Blaine knows that it won’t be enough.

He needs …

He needs a good make-over.

\---

Tina is at her locker when Mike gasps next to her.

Following his gaze, she is torn between letting her jaw drop to the floor and beaming at the incoming crowd.

Because Kurt, Mercedes and Quinn look fierce and unstoppable in their get-ups, half-punk, half 1980s revival and isn’t that inspiring, fashion-wise, and they smile at her as they pass the rest of the gawking crowd.

Behind them, Tina spots someone who appears to try to be as inconspicuous as possible.

But with his leather jacket and good looks, there is no way he can escape the notice of the female population of McKinley.

Tina glances towards Kurt’s locker and snorts discretely when she sees him nearly dropping a book when Leather Greaser walks by, his nose in the map of the school he apparently just got from Ms. Pillsbury. 

Look at that ass go though.

“Mike?”

“Hm?”

“I wanna make out.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“‘kay.”

Such a good boyfriend.

\---

Kurt’s new looks didn’t go unnoticed, but it’s Quinn and her Skanks by her side, more than anything, that keeps everybody at a distance.

Or so he thinks.

During lunch--under the bleachers, because it is fun to eat out there, and that couch the Skanks have installed is pretty comfy--Mercedes and Tina sit on each side of Kurt to tell him all about what they heard during their respective classes.

People saying that Kurt has tattoos.

That he got locked up in juvie over the summer and that’s how he got so buff.

“Buff?”

“Baby got guns,” Tina says, reverently squeezing his bicep.

That Kurt is the Skanks newest member, and that he has hidden piercings.

“Most bets go for the South of your border.”

“Oh my God.”

That Kurt carries a knife and that he knows how to use it, like a Ninja.

This one makes Kurt pause--he definitely has been called worse than a Ninja.

“And what about the new guy?” he asks, snapping his teeth at Tina who stole the last of his cheese-covered fries.

All the girls instantly look on high alert, grins and smirks surrounding him.

“Oooooh,” Ronnie coos, flicking his nose, “little skank’s got a cruuuush!”

“I do not,” Kurt replies, batting her hand away. “I’m just curious, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m plenty curious,” Mack says, her eyes lost in the distance. “To know if he has special underwear to make his ass so bubbly, and how it would feel were you to squeeze it, and how he prefers to take it and--”

“Hold on, just a fucking minute,” Kurt says, standing up and pointing a finger at her. “Why do you assume that he’s gay?”

“Uh, because he is?”

“ _ How do you know that _ ?”

Mack rolls her eyes and pulls her phone out of her pocket before plucking a cigarette from her other breast pocket. She scrolls her phone while waiting for someone to just light it up for her. “There you go, Cinderfella,” she says after a moment. “Your little grease monkey, in all his rainbow glory.”

Kurt scans the article on the screen, with a picture of a younger, smoother, more dapper even version of the young man who strolled into the school. “Gay bashing,” he reads, covering his mouth as he hands over the phone. “Oh my God.”

Mercedes rubs circles on his back as he recovers from the shock. 

“I don’t know about you guys,” Quinn says softly, “but I think Mr. Greasemonkey deserves a place in our group.”

“Ay!”

“Ay.”

“If I can watch when he starts making out with Cinderfella …”

“Mack!”

“Fine, fine, agreed.”

“Thank you.”

She snorts before flicking her half-smoked cigarette away, into a puddle. “I need to get me some lunch money from a Freshman.”

“Lunch is about to be over,” Tina points out and Kurt giggles.

“My  _ second _ lunch.”

“Of course.”

\---

Blaine isn’t sure what is going on.

Puck must have done his job well, or it’s the leather jacket--or it’s the dark look he sends everybody who comes a little bit too close--but he’s been left in peace for his whole first day.

Which is quite a relief, to be honest.

Navigating the school is complicated enough, Blaine doesn’t feel like taking care of Neanderthalian idiots just yet.

All in good times.

But the day is finally over, and he thought he would be able to just drive home.

Except that there are people sitting on the hood of his car.

Three people, to be exact, all with some level of pinkness in their hair.

Including one of the hottest men Blaine has ever seen, and he’s watched some quality porn, okay.

But with the way he leans against the car, tight jean shorts only highlighting his crotch, and his denim jacket with the ripped sleeves that allow Blaine’s eyes to take the lean muscles in, and the cheekbones …

Yeah, definitely the hottest man Blaine has ever seen, even more so in the flesh.

In the delicious, within reach flesh.

“Um, excuse me?” he calls, jiggling his keys and increasing the swagger of his steps. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to leave this hellhole.”

“Don’t we all,” the white girl says with a drawl. “We have a proposition though.”

“A proposition,” Blaine repeats, eyeing the three of them. 

“To make it a little less hellish,” the guy says and Blaine focuses on him.

“I’m all ears.”

“We are members of the Skank,” the black girl tells him, standing up. “I’m Mercedes, she’s Quinn, he’s Kurt.”

“Blaine.”

“And we’re also members of the Glee club,” Mercedes continues, elbowing Quinn when she starts mumbling, too low for Blaine to hear.

“Quite the combo,” he simply comments and Kurt smiles at him.

Good Lord.

“The best combo,” Kurt replies and Blaine smiles before he can control himself.

Fuck, he’s beaming at the guy.

Oh shit, there is a blush now coloring Kurt’s cheeks that almost matches his strand of hair.

From untamed tiger to cuddly kitten in a blink.

Blaine could learn to live with those kinds of back and forth.

_ And back and forth and back and forth, harder, faster … _

Blaine can feel his cock stir in his jeans and he clears his throat, thinking of his Aunt Maxin’s stale perfume to keep himself from popping a boner just because a cute guy blushed at him.

Lord, how pathetic can you get.

“Your proposition?” he asks, getting back on track.

“To become a member of either the Skanks or the Glee club, or both,” Mercedes says, “so you know we have your back.”

Blaine actually considers it, both options sounding like something he could be interested in. “Would I have to smoke though?” he asks, eyeing Quinn with a frown. “Cause i can barely stand the smell …”

“No obligation whatsoever.”

“No pink in my hair?”

Kurt smirks at him, the badass back on at full blast. “You’d rock it, but like we said, no obligation.”

Blaine pockets that information (streaks of pink on his temple could look good--but more Flamingo than hot pink) and frowns at them all. “And how do you know that the Glee club will take me in?”

The three pause and start laughing so hard Kurt nearly topples over the hood of Blaine’s car. “Oh trust us,” Quinn says between two giggles, “they’ll take you in. You can sing?”

“I … yes?”

“Do you want to hog the spotlight?”

“Not really no, I mean, if there is an opportunity--”3

“There won’t be.”

“Okay then no.”

“Then you’ll be welcomed with open arms,” Mercedes says, a bit dejectedly. 

Blaine mulls it over, the hidden welcome in the unlikely group’s proposition.

The look on Kurt’s face, half-defiance and half-hope.

“Alright.”

\---

Around one month after the beginning of Senior year, one month after Blaine’s arrival, Kurt already knows that he’s doomed.

The guy is smooth like his leather jacket, he’s strong and delicate--he brings salads and home-made sodas to the Skanks picnic--, takes no bullshit from no one and shows a remarkable amount of empathy when the need arises.

Kurt didn’t expect to see Blaine bringing Azimio to his knees, but he cannot deny that it makes him feel hot under the collar to see Blaine with his boot on Azimio’s large chest, the burly football player’s cheek already bruising while Blaine explains to him, in no uncertain term, that checking students in the hallways has come to an end.

All while little Dottie Kazatori is picking up her binders, crying but looking up at Blaine with awe and relief in her eyes.

Much like Kurt himself, to be honest.

A whisper travels through the crowd, and in a flash, Blaine has Azimio back on his feet, pressing a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.

“Everything alright here?” a teacher asks with a frown.

Blaine raises an eyebrow at Azimio, and Kurt can see him actually flinching. “Y-yeah sir,” Azimio replies. “Hit myself with my locker door.”

“Go to see the nurse, then.”

“Yes sir.”

“Want me to help you there?” Blaine asks sweetly--too sweetly, and Kurt barely manages to keep himself from laughing out loud--and Azimio hurries to shake his head.

“No, n-no, I’m good, I promise.”

“Good.”

The threat in Blaine’s voice is audible, and visible in his smile as he folds his handkerchief before slipping it in Azimio’s pocket. Kurt goes to pick up a stray sheet of paper and hands it to Dottie, and if it allows him to step closer, well, it’s not really his fault is it.

“I’m not going anywhere, ‘Zimio,” Blaine says quietly. “Keep that in mind.”

Azimio looks disgusted and terrified as he clamps his mouth shut and scurries away.

Blaine turns to Dottie and spots Kurt. “Are you okay?” he asks the younger student, and she nods like a bobblehead before bowing her head at them both, rushing out of sight.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Blaine says, brushing invisible lint from his jacket.

“I’m not,” Kurt replies, offering Blaine a tissue. Blaine takes it with a curious little noise. “You have some blood on your--your knuckles.”

Blaine looks down at his left hand, and there is a faint trace of the blood from Azimio’s nose, no doubt.

Now that Kurt is close, he can see that Blaine isn’t too ruffled up, though there is a tear in his jeans.

Blaine spots it too. “Shit.”

Kurt tries to lighten the tension in Blaine’s shoulders (and to distract himself from how aroused he still is, in spite of himself, by the whole previous display). “That only adds to the whole costume,” he says, and Blaine looks at him sharply.

“Costume?” he repeats, and Kurt looks around them--they’re the only ones left in the hallway--before shrugging.

“We both know that this,” he says, gesturing at them both, “is a costume we’re wearing until we can be free from this state.”

Blaine opens and closes his mouth before nodding.

“Don’t worry, though,” Kurt adds with a crooked smile, tentatively reaching to pat Blaine’s shoulder, “I’m pretty sure the demonstration cemented the idea that you’re a delinquent not to be trifled with.”

“Good.”

This time around, Blaine’s smile is not threatening, nor is his tone.

If Kurt let himself hope, he would think that it’s … affectionate.

But Kurt knows better than to let himself hope.

At least he tries convincing himself of that.

\---

The more time Blaine spends with the Skanks, with Kurt really if he’s being honest, the more time he wants to spend with him.

Because Kurt is not just the hottest man Blaine has ever seen in real life.

He’s the most compassionate, wittiest, smartest, strongest man Blaine knows.

The most observant, too.

Saddie Hawkins dance is fast approaching, and the Skanks have plans of their own--a little party of their own, with their music, and their drinks, and their brand of fun.

As the weather became darker, the Skanks had no choice but return to the cafeteria for lunch, but they secured a table near the courtyard door early on.

Blaine is munching on his macaroni and “cheese”, making a list of pros and cons for inviting Kurt to be his date at the “Skanky Hawkins” when he can feel Mercedes and Mack sitting next to him.

“We need to talk, Sugar Ray,” Mack says, pushing his plate away from him.

“Hey,” he protests weakly before throwing his fork back in the plate. “What’s going on, ladies?”

“It’s about Kurt.”

“What about him,” he replies, bowing his head to avoid both their searching looks.

“When are you going to make a move on,” Mercedes asks, poking his shoulder repeatedly.

“Hummel is a catch, Anderson,” Mack continues. “And the tension between you two is bordering on pain play now.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re teasing and that’s not correct,” Mack replies. “So get your balls out of the locker, and ask him out.”

“And the dance is the perfect time to have your first kiss,” Mercedes adds innocently.

“I was planning on asking him to be my date,” Blaine mumbles, wincing when they both--discretely, thank God--squeal in his ears.

He’s pretty sure he lost half of an eardrum.

“Awesome,” Mack says, clapping his back. “I’ll make sure we have your favorite drinks available.”

“And Quinn is picking up condoms from Planned Parenthood.”

Blaine looks up, eyes wide. “We’re not--I’m not--What are you--”

Mercedes pinches his cheek. “Just the gentleman Kurt deserves,” she says gently. “Hurt him and you won’t have any balls left.”

She didn’t change her tone to threaten him and Blaine rubs his sore cheek. “What if he hurts me?” he asks as they stand up to leave.

“Same deal,” Mercedes says with a wink. “Though Quinn will take care of him, shall the need arise.”

\---

Kurt is not entirely convinced by the whole Skanky Hawkins plan.

All of them, in a motel room, with alcohol and music?

It can only lead to trouble, and not necessarily the fun kind.

“Kurt?”

Blaine’s head pokes into the library’s space where Kurt has found refuge.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Blaine says with a soft smile. “Do you mind if I …?”

“Nah, go ahead,” Kurt replies, knocking his backpack off the chair to give Blaine some room.

Blaine sits down, leaning his forearms on the table and Kurt gives himself a second to admire them.

They’re really nice forearms, okay, so sue him.

“I wanted to … talk to you, about the dance?”

Blaine is hesitant, almost shy, definitely unsure, and Kurt appreciates that Blaine lets him see that side of himself.

“What about it?” he asks with a little laugh. “Bailing on us now, Anderson?”

Blaine shakes his head, a crooked smile on his face. “No, no--quite the opposite actually.”

Kurt lifts one eyebrow at that, prompting Blaine to go on.

“I was wondering if you … um, if you’d like to go with--with me.”

Kurt has to remind himself that he needs to swallow and breathe. “Go together?”

“As … as a date.”

Kurt savors the way the word sounds, lets it hang in the air before replying.

“I’d love that.”

\---

Blaine goes to pick up Kurt, leaving his present for Kurt in the car, just in case it really doesn’t suit Kurt’s outfit.

He checks his  [ own  ](http://g01.a.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1m2YxHVXXXXbyXVXXq6xXFXXXU/European-and-American-punk-style-personality-zippers-design-men-s-casual-suit-jacket-fashion-single-breasted.jpg_640x640.jpg) in the window near the front door, and he’s pretty proud of himself.

And the pink on his temple definitely looks good.

Kurt’s father opens the door and gives him a long searching look--one that Kurt definitely inherited from him--before holding up his hand. “You must be Blaine.”

“Y-yes sir,” Blaine says as he shakes his hand.

“You two have fun tonight,” Burt says gently. “Try to sneak a picture of the two of you for me, will ya son?”

Blaine stammers before nodding.

Kurt practically trips himself in his rush to go down the stairs, but Blaine doesn’t see the clumsiness in action, all too busy to admire Kurt’s  [ outfit ](http://i01.i.aliimg.com/wsphoto/v0/545194135_1/New-arrivel-Men-s-Casual-Suit-New-Men-s-Jackets-in-black-grey-Free-Shipping.jpg) , and the glow of his blush, and the brightness of his smile.

And how vivid the pink of his strand of hair is, he must have applied a new layer just for tonight.

To see that he’s not the only one wanting to make tonight special sends a flutter of butterflies in Blaine’s stomach, and he can only beam back at Kurt.

“You two have fun,” Mr. Hummel repeats, squeezing Kurt’s shoulder. “No later than one, Kurt.”

“Okay Dad,” Kurt says, with an affectionate eyeroll. “Good evening!”

“Good evening, sir,” Blaine adds before Kurt can close the door.

“Don’t you look charming,” Kurt says, before lifting his hand, the tip of his fingers brushing the streak of pink in Blaine’s curls. “Cute.”

“I try,” Blaine says, making a big show of preening for Kurt, to make him smile and chuckle. “You … you look fantastic, Kurt.”

They both look down shyly as they reach Blaine’s car. 

“Thank you,” Kurt tells Blaine before opening the passenger door.

Before starting the car, Blaine picks up the little box. “I wasn’t about to get you a corsage,” he says, “but I thought you might appreciate an accessory.”

Kurt takes the box from him and opens it gingerly, his eyes widening at the sight of the  [ brooch  ](https://img0.etsystatic.com/066/0/6037672/il_170x135.761137402_9r2u.jpg) Blaine found.

“Blaine,” he says reverently, picking it up and fixing it on his larger lapel, “it’s beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Would I wear it if it wasn’t?”

Blaine lets out a small laugh. “No you wouldn’t.”

“Right.”

They exchange a smile and Blaine starts the car. 

“But I don’t have--,” Kurt starts, biting his lower lip, “I don’t have a present for you.”

Blaine waits for them to reach the stop sign and turns to look at Kurt. “Next time,” he replies, trying to quiet his nerves.

Kurt gives him a long look, reminiscent of his father’s earlier one, before smiling at Blaine. “Next time,” he echoes, his fingers reaching for the brooch before settling in his lap.

\---

Besides Mack’s weird insistence that they stay in the “better lighting”, the party is surprisingly tame.

It’s fun, and light, and there is absolutely no pressure.

So what if Mercedes and Tina giggle over their “choreography”, and so what if Quinn and Puck break up and make up at least four times in the whole evening.

Kurt is standing next to him, keeping both their cups full and lightly swaying in time with the music.

“We could dance, you know,” Blaine says teasingly and Kurt looks up, trying to hear the music over the girls’ loud cover and laughter.

“To Katy Perry?” he says with a snort. “I don’t think so.”

“Or we can just side step like two morons,” Blaine replies, doing just that and smirking at Kurt, a surprised laugh bubbling out of him when Kurt falls into step with him, and they both turn on the spot at the same time, sloshing some of their drinks on the way, but who cares.

The music changes to a soft rhythm and blues slow dance, and Blaine turns to Kurt, adjusting his jacket. “May I have this dance?” he asks, as solemnly as he can.

Kurt visibly gulps and takes a deep breath before putting his hand in Blaine’s. “You may,” he whispers, letting Blaine pulls him closer, one arm slid around his waist to let his hand rest on the small of his back.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks once he’s managed to tune out the Skanks (and Puck) and their squeals of delight.

“Hm?”

“May I kiss you?”

Blaine looks up at him and he can feel his cheeks hurting with the width of his smile. “You may,” he replies in a whisper, tilting his head to let Kurt press his lips against his.

Around them, their closest friends are cheering, whooping, and exchanging money, but it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the feeling of Kurt’s lips, the soft caress of his breath when he pulls away only to come back at a different angle, the pressure of his fingers tightening around Blaine’s.

The faint, whiny sound Kurt lets out when Blaine licks at the seam of his lips.

The way Blaine can feel his own groan vibrating in Kurt’s mouth when Kurt opens his mouth and brushes his tongue against Blaine’s.

The way they unconsciously step closer to each other, melting into each other as they deepen the kiss.

“--you dare, this is everything I’ve hoped for since the drugstore stopped selling me booze.”

“Come on guys, let’s give them some privacy.”

“Mack, come on, I’m pretty sure the barman won’t card us.”

“... Fine.”

The conversation feels like it comes from a great distance, but Blaine pulls away anyway, panting to catch his breath and grinning as Kurt leans his head against Blaine’s forehead, his sharp exhales sending warmth against Blaine’s neck.

“They left us alone,” Blaine whispers.

Kurt hums, rubbing the tip of his nose against Blaine’s cheek, and Blaine’s vision is filled with pink.

The music has stopped--probably because it came from Quinn’s phone in the first place--and Blaine straightens up, taking Kurt’s hand before he starts to sway them across the room, humming wordlessly.

Kurt smiles at him, letting Blaine lead them around and around until his eyes widen in recognition, and he starts singing under his breath.

“ _ Hold me close and hold me fast _

_ The magic spell you cast _

_ This is la vie en rose … _ ”


End file.
